


"His" Fiance, Choosing

by QueenCamellia



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, F/M, Lots of Angst, everyone needs more love, i love both r!ciel and o!ciel, lizzy is my queen, real ciel needs more love, twin ciel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-01-27 00:21:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12569484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCamellia/pseuds/QueenCamellia
Summary: Confronted with the truth, she chooses.(or: Lizzy is faced with a decision to accept her past or move forward, and looking at her two Ciels in the eye has never been harder)[alternatively: twin ciel angst]





	1. Culpability

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted on FFN and Tumblr. I'm new to Ao3, so I apologize if there's formatting errors. ^^ I'm still getting the hang of it.

Elizabeth Midford knew it.

She knew it from a long time ago…yet, she couldn’t bring herself to actually vocalize such an idea, much less investigate it. It was so much easier for her to smile and pretend, to play the dutiful and cheery fiance that society expected her to be. She didn’t want to grow up and be “Elizabeth,” the title that her mother so often used to chastise her.

She was  _Lizzy_ , the girl who played tag with Ciel, Aunt Anne, and Aunt Rachel.

And so, for  _months_ after she came to the realization that her Ciel wasn’t the one that she remembered in the past, Lizzy lied.

Father had always said that Lizzy had a natural talent for acting and would do well in the field, much to her mother’s countenance. He was right all along. Lizzy made a convincing actress: she could even fool herself, most of the time. There were instances where she faltered. They were nothing but little missteps, nothing that Ciel _(she couldn’t, she wouldn’t call him anything but "Ciel," for even if he wasn’t the Ciel of the past, he was_ Ciel  _to her)_ ever noticed. The only one who seemed to catch onto her act was Tanaka.

Tanaka, faithful, kind, gentle Tanaka. She remembered catching the elderly servant’s eyes once for just a split second while dancing with Ciel. Somehow, she found herself begging the servant with her eyes: _“Is it true? It can’t be true, it can’t. Not my Ciel, please not him…”_

Tanaka’s gaze had softened for a moment, the solemn smile he offered enough of an answer to Lizzy. Her smile had wavered for a split fraction of a second before she plastered an even brighter grin on her face, turning back to Ciel to chatter some nonsense about cute stuffed animals.

Lizzy loved Ciel. She had loved him in the past, and she loved him in the present. That was a fact that was as clear as day to any other observer, but there was a treacherous part of her mind that whispered:  _“do you really love him?”_

No, no,  _no!_

Lizzy loved Ciel. Ciel wasn’t just her cousin or fiance, he was her world. She had grown stronger to protect him and had hidden her strength for the same reason. She loved Ciel, regardless of…regardless of…

Abruptly, a memory flickered into her mind of a sunny day filled with laughter. Her, Aunt Anne, Aunt Rachel, and Ciel _(not_ her  _Ciel, the Ciel she once loved)_ gathered around a picnic table. She and Ciel had attempted to spit watermelon seeds out on the lawn, ignoring the scandalized looks from Aunt Anne and reprimands of Ciel’s mother. She loved Ciel back then, too.

_But that wasn’t the same Ciel._

Did she love that Ciel? The Ciel that would give her blinding smiles and decorate her hair with flower crowns? The one who would paint Easter eggs with her and always offer her a hand whenever she fell down?

Or did she love  _Ciel?_ The one who had done his best to protect her aboard the Campania, the one who had accepted her despite her not being the wife she was expected to be, innocently smiling and waiting for her husband at home.

Then again, it didn’t matter, anyways. Ciel was her fiance now, and the smiling Ciel of the past was gone.  _Most likely dead,_  the extremely helpful, logical side of her brain pointed out. The facts were that there was only one Ciel Phantomhive occupying the Phantomhive mansion at the moment, and that Ciel was her fiance.

That was the unequivocal truth.

Of course, Lizzy had tried to deny the truth for the longest time. But eventually, the lies and facts piled up to the point that she couldn’t push the matter aside any longer. The name “Elizabeth” upon his lips, the Easter egg, the asthma that he so desperately tried to hide from her (really, did he think she was an idiot?) — all of them pointed to the one conclusion she had hoped and hoped wasn’t true.

…he had been lying to her.

…and he was still lying.

He wasn’t Ciel.  _(“No,”_  a voice inside her screamed.  _“He is Ciel, he’s our Ciel. Just not...him.")_  And idly, she wondered if Ciel ever would’ve bothered to tell her the truth.

It really shouldn’t have stung as much as it did. After all, Lizzy was used to being lied to by him. From Sebastian to the mysterious events on the Campania, Lizzy already could sense that whatever Ciel was getting himself involved in wasn’t pleasant. But even so, the fact that he didn’t trust her enough to tell her the truth still caused a part of her heart ache in an unimaginably painful way.

* * *

Lizzy was thinking. She did often did that nowadays, now that she thought about it.

In the midst of her musing, a voice cut in, its familiarity startling her out of her trance. A greeting and a name: that was all it took for reality and her world to crash and burn around her.

“Hello, Lizzy.”

She whipped around, heart pounding and emerald green eyes dilated. Her lips parted and let out a tiny, quiet gasp  _(of hope, horror, or amazement she couldn’t tell)_. And although Lizzy felt like doing a myriad of things — ranging from collapsing on the ground into a quivering mess to rubbing her eyes to ensure her vision wasn’t failing her — she simply blinked once. Then, quite numbly, she said, “It’s you.”

Her simple statement was met with a bittersweet, twisted, perverse imitation of the blinding smile she once knew. And then, without any sign of doubt in his tone came her reply:

“So you knew.”

She couldn’t discern if it was betrayal or amusement swimming in his deep, azure eyes that looked so much like Uncle Vincent’s.


	2. love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Updating everything I have. The story will be complete.

“You’re going to him.”

She halted in her footsteps at _his_ nonchalant tone. Although he sounded unconcerned, there almost seemed to be a hint of _hurt_ in his voice that stopped her in her tracks. Her breath hitched, and she tilted her head upwards to stare at the ceiling for a moment. “I just want to...apologize to him. I can’t...I just...I…”

Her breathing grew more shallow until finally, Lizzy gave up and whipped around to look at him, eyes blazing. “Oh, to Hell with it. _Please,_  Ciel. I need to do this.”

Something about her addressing him by his name made the boy’s lips twitch for a fraction as he turned to face her fully. There was a look in his eyes that Lizzy could almost describe as fond. At the same time, there was something darker lurking within those sapphire depths: a kind of darkness that had flickered within his eyes even when they were children. But the thing that threw her off the most was the twinkle of what she could only describe as “amusement” that appeared in his eyes. For a second, Lizzy could almost see the boy that she had grown up with.

Then, his expression shifted and her boy was gone. “He’s a liar.”

“Aren’t we all?” She countered.

“He lied to you.”

“And you wouldn’t?”

“Never,” Ciel vowed, gaze steady. Somehow, Lizzy couldn’t bring herself to believe him.

Now it was her turn to look amused. “You would,” she stated confidently, repeating once more: “You _would,_  to keep me as the dainty and kind wife that I was meant to be. To keep me weak.”

“To _protect_ you,” he insisted fervently. There was an edge to his voice, now. It was the most emotion he had really shown in weeks, and Lizzy relished in the victory of eliciting such a response from him.

“He’s your brother,” she said quietly. “Ciel…”

He paused for a moment, hand twitching. Then, he gestured dismissively towards the hallway, mumbling, “Just _go."_

She hurt him. Lizzy could tell. _Why couldn’t she do anything right?_

Her voice caught in her throat again. “Ciel, I...I…”

 _"Go,_  Lizzy.” The sound of her nickname was enough for tears to well in her eyes. She turned around and fled, heart pounding and mind whispering the same thing over and over again:

_I’m sorry._

.

.

.

.

_I’m sorry._

“Ciel...I’m sorry.”

Words couldn’t express the wave of self loathing and hopelessness that washed over Lizzy as she clenched a hand to her chest. The room was dim, just the faintest bit of moonlight trickling in from the looming giant windows behind them. Before her lied a sleeping Ciel, his eyepatch missing and face tranquil. He looked so peaceful and unguarded, something she never saw when he was awake.

“I’m not good enough,” she admitted, her voice wavering as she moved to stand by his side. It was almost ironic: this was the one time where she was where she wanted to be _(by_ _his side, not three steps behind),_  yet Lizzy couldn’t bring herself to feel happy about the situation. Not at all.

She was powerless.

She was _weak._

And although Lizzy had always prided herself in her swordsmanship, her inner fortitude, her _strength_...she never felt as weak as she did then. Staring at his peaceful expression, the last vestiges of her strength crumbled. _"I'm sorry,"_  she gasped, hand trembling as she reached for his hand. “I can’t save you.”

Weak, she was so, so weak.

Why couldn’t she protect them all?

Why hadn’t she realized sooner?

Why couldn’t she fix things?

Why was fate so against granting them the happily-ever-afters that these boys deserved?

...why?

Why?

_Why?_

_._

.

Adrenaline raced through her veins, the liberating feeling of _freedom_ coursing through her body. Lizzy ducked, parried, and slashed with dexterity she never knew she possessed.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Sebastian started, casually dodging each of her lightning-quick strikes with ease that both infuriated and awed the blonde. She didn’t falter in her strikes, lips contorting into an even more furious scowl and attacking with more ferocity at the sound of her given name. Elizabeth, it was always Elizabeth with them. Never Lizzy. “Your family and the young master are all worried sick about you,” Sebastian reasoned, not even blinking as he tilted his head to the left and narrowly avoided being jabbed in the eye. “Please return home.”

Idly, a part of her subconscious registered the fact that Sebastian called him “the young master,” as always. That solidified her hypothesis: _Sebastian knew._  He knew and never told her. No, that wasn’t it. Most likely, his appearance had something to _do_ with her two Ciels. Her mother had always been wary around the butler, but Lizzy never paid heed to Francis’s warnings. After all, it was _Sebastian,_ their admittedly eccentric but trustworthy  _(or so she had thought)_ butler. She should’ve listened.

_He knew._

And he, like the others, never told her.

Somehow, that infuriated Lizzy more. She willed herself to move even _faster,_  agilely darting forward and slashing at him with her rapier as her mind ran at rapid speeds. _Home,_  he called it. Was _that place_ really her home any longer? How could she return there when she knew that all she would be faced with would be lies and deceit once again? Lizzy couldn’t play that game: not again, not now when Ciel _(n_ _ot her old Ciel, he wasn’t the same anymore)_ had returned from the dead. Was it her duty to stand by the real Ciel’s side? Or should she follow that tiny, nagging voice inside her head which screamed at her to return _home_ , by _his_ side?

“I will do no such thing!” She spat out. Lizzy dashed forward with renewed vigor, swiping at Sebastian futilely once again. The butler quite literally jumped and somersaulted over her, landing on his feet and looking as pristine as ever.

“You have always wished for nothing but the young master’s happiness,” Sebastian commented, raising his eyebrows almost mockingly towards her. She gritted her teeth, the same chant repeating over and over in her mind like a mantra: _he knew, he knew, he_ knew. He knew and he was _testing_ her. “Why are you doing this?”

 _"Why,"_  she quoted, stepping forward steadily, “Why, you ask? Well, that’s obviously…”

_Ciel laughing and dragging her to a hiding spot in a cupboard where his mother wouldn’t find them, hushing her reluctant worries and snuggling beside her._

_Ciel embracing her, oblivious of the grime and blood on her, body quivering as if he had been afraid he’d lost her._

Squeezing her eyes shut to block out the memories flooding her mind, she gazed into Sebastian’s eyes. They were scarlet red: the same shade as blood, and they held no empathy nor concern. Sebastian had never been the sort to show any kind of emotion other than amusement, really. Lizzy had always attributed it to his poker face, but now she wondered if there was something more to Sebastian’s aloof nature.

There had always been something ethereal, something _inhuman_ about Ciel’s mysterious butler. He acted...almost like a person who had never really understood love. That thought struck her inspiration for her next words.

“... _something you could never possibly understand!”_ She finished, snarling and drawing out her second sword, extending them and sending dust flying into the air with her quick whirlwind of motion. Sebastian lept back, kicking one of the swords out of her grip and spiraling into the air, but Lizzy was undaunted. The instincts that had been drilled into her head since she was a child _("always go for them when their guards are down, Lizzy”_ ) kicked in, and her sword swung down.

Sebastian, to his credit, caught the sword between his hands.

There was silence for a moment as he watched her expression warily, as if searching for when her next attack would be.

Lizzy’s hands were quivering now, and she felt her grip on her sword slacken. _Mother would’ve scolded me for that,_  she thought idly. _But I wonder if Ciel would’ve been impressed by my agility._

The invocation of both her mother and Ciel caused tears to well in her eyes. Lizzy gritted her teeth, biting her trembling lip and fighting back the tears that threatened to fall.

 _Damn it, damn it,_ damn it.

Why was she still so _weak?_

A sudden admission rushed out of her mouth before she could stop it. “I don’t know what the right thing to do is, either! But...I...”

Her words seemed to catch in her throat.

Sebastian remained silent, but it seemed as if her mouth couldn’t stop moving once it had started, and out tumbled the truth: “I, for one, cannot return to _that_ side!”

_Ah, she was crying._

_Damn it._

Completely abandoning her grip on her rapier, Lizzy sent a sweeping kick towards the butler, forcing him to jump in the air once more. She used that one moment of respite to grab the sword falling from where Sebastian had kicked it above them. With one last swipe, she threw her entire body weight into a single attack which Sebastian dodged by a hair’s breath.

The glass behind him shattered completely under the force of her thrust.

There was a small part of her mind which relished in the completely shell-shocked expression on Sebastian’s face as he realized how close her attack had been. The majority of her mind, however, was a mess.

“Miss Elizabeth, your strength is truly a wonder worthy of admiration.” Something about his tone made her pause, and she started when she realized that his pupils had dilated in a way that made them resemble a cat’s ( _not a cat’s, a demon’s_ , a voice whispered in her mind). He finished darkly, “For human standards, that is.”

Lizzy couldn’t even see him move. She was sent flying back, the mere impact of his one punch causing her to fly back several feet and roll over several times on the ground. Pain, _excruciating pain_ was all she could feel. Every one of her muscles burned, but Lizzy willed herself to slowly crawl to face him. “I won’t…” she hissed, “let you pass…”

It was the least she could do for _him_ after everything.

She had forgotten him. She had lied about him. She had helped “Ciel” steal his identity, and Lizzy had taken several months before she even _realized_ that the Ciel she knew wasn’t the Ciel she used to know.

_She had to do this to atone for herself._

Ciel, the Ciel of her childhood, had lost the smile that she had once loved.

And she knew that _she_ was part of the reason for his lost smile.

Her consciousness was fading, and she could only think:

_I’m sorry...Ciel…_

_._

(But which Ciel was she referring to?)


	3. reflection

Lizzy woke up to the sound of birds chirping. Immediately, she sat up and scanned the room warily, and to her relief, it was empty. Light streamed in the bedroom through a single window, and to her side laid a single stuffed animal. It was a rabbit _(rabbits had always been one of her favorite animals_ ), and its resemblance to Ciel almost made bile rise to her throat.

_She couldn’t do this._

Lizzy couldn’t face him: not now, not after meeting the other Ciel.

“The other Ciel,” hah. Wasn’t that a funny thought? After all, _"th_ _e other Ciel_ ” had always just been _"Ciel_ ” in the past _(and Ciel had once been Astre)._  She was hit by a sudden turbulent wave of emotions: anger, fear, guilt, sadness, hope, and confusion. It seemed as if the entire emotional spectrum had somehow managed to overwhelm her senses.

She had no doubt that Sebastian was somewhere nearby. In fact, she could faintly hear voices from downstairs. One of the voices sounded suspiciously like her brother.

_Edward._

God, she couldn’t do this. Not yet.

Lizzy had to leave. And if she wanted to leave without getting caught, she’d have to do so quickly before Sebastian came upstairs to check on her. Silently mustering all the agility she could, Lizzy pulled off several of the bed sheets and began to work. Hands nimbly weaving the fabric together, each satisfying knot distracted her from further thought and emotion. All that existed in her tiny world was her and the bed sheets: twist, tie, secure. Twist, tie, secure.

“Okay,” she whispered quietly, her voice sounding hoarse and nearly inaudible in the bedroom. _Lizzy, you can do this._ She scooted over to the side of the bed, securing her makeshift rope around the bedpost. Gingerly, her feet stepped onto the bedroom floor. Ensuring that the wood would not creak, Lizzy made her way to the window and slid it open.

Throwing the rope out of the window, Lizzy hesitated for a split second and glanced back.

_Ciel will be furious._

“Maybe next time,” she murmured, nimbly scaling down the wall nearly effortlessly.

And so she ran away.

.

.

She didn’t want to face either of them. Not now, at least.

Lizzy trudged through the streets of London with a purpose.

“Nina,” she greeted, exuding as much authority as she could. Lizzy tried to emulate the intimidating aura that Ciel and her mother often used whenever they meant serious business. “A pleasure to see you, again.”

The dressmaker, who had been in the middle of pinning a cloth to a mannequin, froze and promptly dropped her sewing needle. “Oh my, Lady Midford. Please...why don’t you take a seat?”

.

.

.

Within three hours, Lizzy was well-fed, properly dressed, and warmed to the core. At the moment, she sat on a fashionable Oriental chair in Nina’s backroom, sipping some tea and ignoring Nina’s pressing stares. To her relief, the dressmaker hadn’t questioned her sudden reappearance or unkempt appearance, instead fussing over her and remarking about how “cute girls like her needed to take better care of their complexion and clothes”.

Feeling as though the woman needed some semblance of repayment, Lizzy cleared her throat. “I’ve been avoiding Ciel.”

“Ah, I’m well aware,” Nina replied cheerily. “After all, he kept sending men to ask me if you ever came by. Not to mention the Sphere Music Hall nonsense.”

Lizzy flinched at the invocation of the _place_ . Just thinking of the atrocities that...that _occurred_ there made her want to vomit. Vomiting, as her mother once told her, definitely was _not_ ladylike (much less the proper thing to do when being received by somebody in their own work space).

“I see,” Lizzy said simply, taking another sip of tea. Carefully, she asked, “What did Ciel tell you about me?”

“If you mean to ask _how much did he tell about me_ , young Lady Midford, you shan’t worry,” Nina assured her. “The young Lord Phantomhive doesn’t like discussing such matters with somebody like me, the little brat. But don’t worry, I won’t inform the young Lord of your presence. I can basically gather what’s going on, anyways.”

Trying not to flinch or show any signs of panic, Lizzy gave a somewhat noncommittal hum of acknowledgment. “And your conclusions?”

“A lover’s quarrel, of course!” Nina declared confidently, causing Lizzy to spit out some of the tea she was drinking.

“L- _lovers’_ quarrel?” She sputtered, blinking rapidly. “What even...why would you ever think such a thing?”

“The young Lord Phantomhive, as adorable as he might be, is not the most tactful of lovers, m’lady,” Nina sighed dramatically, and if it were any other situation, Lizzy might have burst into laughter and probably would’ve agreed. Instead, she bit her lip.

“If…” Lizzy started. “Just...suppose, Nina, that there is a woman who loves a man. She loves him with all her heart, but then she learns that he isn’t the man who she thought he was. What should she do? P-purely hypothetical, of course.” The last fragment was added as a nervous side note.

“Purely hypothetically, you say?” Nina pondered. “Well, whoever you love, you love. Love is a fickle thing, m’lady. It’s the man’s actions that matter, not his name nor words. What was that quote I liked again? From that play by William Shakespeare.”

“ _Hamlet_?” Lizzy offered, recalling Edward’s near fanatic reverence of the play.

“No, no. The one with the lovesick teenagers.”

Lizzy blinked for a moment, searching through her memory for several seconds before finally remembering the title. “Ah, _Romeo and Juliet_.” Something about her expression seemed to darken, which Nina caught.

“Is it not to your taste, m’lady?” Nina questioned curiously. “I would’ve pinned you as the type to swoon at such romance.”

“The play ended as a tragedy,” Lizzy explained shortly, biting her lip. “I don’t like tragedy.”

 _Ah, the amount of irony that went into that statement was astounding._ Sometimes Lizzy felt as if she were one of the characters in a tragedy of her own.

“There was a quote that I took a liking to in that play,” Nina hummed, procuring a plate of biscuits and offering one to Lizzy. She shook her head politely, content with her tea. “It was about roses.”

“Perhaps you are referring to the balcony scene?” Lizzy suggested. Juliet’s speech had resounded with her many years ago when Lizzy first viewed the play. She quoted quietly, “ _What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet._ ”

“Ah, yes. That was what I was thinking of!” Nina confirmed, bobbing her head excitedly. “Even if we called a rose something else, it still retains the same qualities. I would think that the same applies to this lover of yours, Lady Midford.”

“ _Hypothetical_ situation, Nina,” Lizzy insisted, but the dressmaker looked unconvinced.

It was slightly interesting to see the dressmaker act so _normal_ . Usually, the eccentric woman always portrayed herself as a rather exuberant and over excited fool, if she were to quote Ciel. Then again, considering the time period, Lizzy supposed there _must_ have been a well-educated and rational side to the woman. Not anybody could own a dress-shop, not in this society where women were supposed to take care of the household and educate their children.

Mother had drilled it into Lizzy’s head since as long as she could remember: _if you’re a woman and want to survive in this “man’s world”, you must be strong._

“Well, Lady Midford...if you need a place to stay for the moment, you may stay with me,” Nina said kindly, reaching over and petting Lizzy’s hands gently. “I don’t know exactly why you and Lord Phantomhive are fighting, but I understand that a girl has to have some space every once in awhile. You’ll be alright, dear.”

The amount of warmth leaking into the woman’s voice was almost enough to make Lizzy’s expression crumble completely. Instead, throat constricted and voice somewhat raspy, she mumbled, “...Lizzy.”

“Pardon me?”

“Please just call me Lizzy,” she said in a louder voice, offering the woman a small smile. “And...um, if you need any help with your shop, I’ve learned a bit of sewing here and there from my etiquette lessons.”

Nina returned her look with a grin of her own. “As you wish, Lizzy. Now, why don’t I show you one of my new designs I’ve been working on for a client? Actually, your figure is about the same as the girl I’m designing it for. Would you mind being my model?”

.

.

.

.

Over the next week, Lizzy learned the ins and outs of sewing and had reached the point where Nina would actually entrust some minor details to her. (She had spent the first few days practicing on scrap fabric and acting as a mannequin: Nina had high standards for her clothing, and Lizzy’s mediocre sewing skills were not enough to impress her.)

Now, Lizzy was sitting on a bed that Nina graciously granted her. Emerald eyes glancing out of the window and towards the dreary gray sky, Lizzy pondered. She thought and pondered and ruminated over the same thing over and over and over:

_What should she do?_

Ciel (the one with the eye-patch, the one who had gone through so many experiences with her) wasn’t really “Ciel Phantomhive.” And, on the other hand, her old Ciel wasn’t the same Ciel anymore, either. Not-Ciel (because she refused to call her former childhood playmate “Ciel” when all he did was scowl, chuckle in a dreadfully villain-like manner, and look remarkably like Uncle Vincent all day) was planning something, like always.

Not only that: he was associating with shady groups that Aunt Rachel would’ve been horrified to even hear about, much less speak to. She could understand not-Ciel’s anger: his name, title, fiance, _future_ stolen by the person he trusted most.

Then again, he was _dead_ . Or he _had_ been dead. Not-Ciel hadn’t offered much of an explanation to her, but Lizzy _knew_ that when Ciel had returned from whatever hellhole he found Sebastian, not-Ciel had been dead. When Ciel returned to her, he had looked tired. Lost, broken...as if he had lost his twin.

Not-Ciel had returned from the dead.

Was there any laws barring the dead from reclaiming their titles? Lizzy wasn’t even sure: legal matters never interested her in the past. Maybe that was something she should look into. On the other hand, were there any laws against Ciel remaining the heir to the Phantomhive family? It wasn’t as if reanimated corpses were something Queen Victoria worried about on a daily basis. (Then again, maybe she _did_ worry about them: after all, she had heard the whispers about Ciel, the “Queen’s Watchdog”. She had no doubt that the Queen was informed of the Campania incident.)

And moving on to her next problem: rather than what _should_ she do...what did she _want_?

Did she want not-Ciel to reclaim his title? Did she want Ciel to remain “Ciel Phantomhive,” even though that was a lie?

Who should she side with? Who _would_ she side with?

Lizzy swallowed, feeling a lump rise in her throat. Not-Ciel had been her childhood playmate. He had been her first love, her best friend, the ray of sunshine that penetrated through her worries. Not-Ciel had loved her back, and had been unafraid to show it. Even now, he still cared about her.

She could tell: from the way his gaze would follow her across the room to the scent of strawberries in the room he arranged from her. (He had always done those kind of little actions. She noticed. Not-Ciel always kept her likes and dislikes in mind when doing anything. He was thoughtful like that.)

(He had been thoughtful towards Ciel, back in the day, too. Lizzy remembered Aunt Rachel talking about how not-Ciel would often stay inside for his sickly brother.)

(Lizzy once again kicked herself for not realizing sooner. Stupid Ciel, hiding his asthma like he was some cool protagonist of a novel.)

Ciel, on the other hand, was the kind of person to _cause_ anxiety and worry. He was rough and callous with his words. He lied to her, pushed her away, and refused to listen to her.

But...she knew that somewhere deep inside, Ciel cared.

Ciel had been the person to accept her strong side. Ciel tried to protect her from harm, _Ciel_ was the one who comforted her. _Ciel_ had been the person who obliged to her selfish requests, from dancing to the Campania (the latter ending in disaster).

Did she love him?

 _Ciel_ had been the person who she wore her low-heeled shoes for. _Ciel_ had been the person who she fought for. Ciel had been the person who she accepted all sides of, just like how he accepted every part of her.

But did she love _him?_

Even though she could describe Ciel with so many derogatory terms — callous, rude, tactless, and socially inept to name a few — he still was _Ciel_ . Beneath his prickly exterior was Ciel: caring but shy, kind but awkward, weak yet _strong._ And even though he was such a dork whenever he tried to do anything remotely kind, Lizzy knew that he _cared_.

And sometimes, that was enough.

Not-Ciel had confided in her about his plans. Not everything — oh, no, not-Ciel would _never_ tell his dainty cousin all of his plans — but enough for her to figure out her next plan of action.

_...I must._

Lizzy was going to put a stop to this act.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crossposting rn  
> thank you all so much i love youuuuuuu okay??? It's really late so I'm just trying not to make too many typos in my notes  
> i swear if I haven't gotten to you all I'll get to you soon


	4. Chapter 4

 

She scaled the walls of the Phantomhive Manor with ease, making a mental note to fix that tiny security detail later. Grip deadly tight on her rapier, Lizzy slid one of the windows open and slipped inside of the room. It appeared to be Ciel’s study: sprawled on the desk were various documents that were probably high security clearance.

The room was almost like a window into her dear cousin’s soul: superficially, it was startlingly impersonal and neat. But Lizzy knew her fiance well — or, at least she _thought_ she did. Sitting on one of the shelves was the stuffed rabbit she had given him, propped beside a strange Indian trinket and colorful Oriental bauble that undoubtedly were gifts. There was the faintest hint of burnt curry, no doubt one of Bard’s accidents, and Lizzy could vaguely make out scratches on the mahogany desk.

He cared. He _did,_ even if he hid it.

This revelation emboldened her. Lizzy closed her eyes, inhaling and gathering her strength before she strode towards the door. Slipping open the door, Lizzy took one last look at the study before slipping outside, squaring her shoulders grimly and blazing past the hallway with the fury of an avenging angel.

.

.

“Well, well, dear brother...” Ciel (the _real_ Ciel) towered over him, face passive as he descended down the steps. Astre swallowed, a wave of panic threatening to consume him as he clenched his fists. “...no words of affection for me? _Me,_ your dearest twin?”

“You,” he said, unable to address the broken boy in front of him with the name that he so cherished _(but stole anyways)._ The smug-faced noble standing before him wasn’t Ciel: not anymore, he was something _darker_ and more lifeless, a cruel perversion of what used to be. He was not Ciel.

But neither was _he._

“You,” Astre repeated, feeling like a broken record as he stared at the face identical to his own with an expression between horror, fascination, and something else. “It _was_ you, wasn’t it?”

“The Indian butler?” his twin guessed. The amused smirk he flashed at him was so eerily similar to their father’s that shivers involuntarily ran down Astre’s spine. It was already bad enough to see his father’s face distorted by a demon — he couldn’t...he couldn’t bear to see his _twin_ corrupt the smile they loved, too. “I did.”

His admission was nonchalant, simple, and uncaring; Astre’s twin was heedless to the shocked gasps of the Phantomhive servants behind them. _“Why?”_ Astre demanded, the sharp _clack_ of his shoe echoing in the mansion as he stepped forward. “Why are you back here? Why have you come back to haunt me? _Why did you get them involved?”_

The boy who he once called Ciel gave him a questioning look. Slowly, his lips twisted upwards into a crooked grin: it was the same sheepish smile that Ciel wore whenever he played a silly prank. Seeing Ciel’s innocent expression distorted on _this person’s_ face repulsed him. “Why not?”

“Why?” Astre repeated, suddenly very weary. The fight in his eyes died out as he gave his twin a long, appraising stare. “What happened to you, Ciel?”

“You know _exactly_ what happened to me, dearest _brother,”_ his twin snarled. He blinked in surprise before explaining unapologetically, “Ah, temper, temper. I admit that even after death, it sometimes gets the best of me. I suggest you check outside, by the way, _scum.”_ The last sentence, addressed towards Sebastian, was accompanied by a well-practiced sneer.

“I do not—”

“On the contrary, you’ll find that what’s outside is of _very_ pressing concern,” his twin cut off, looking _extremely_ entertained as he noted the Phantomhive butler’s irritation. “You’re a Phantomhive servant now, right? Shoo, shoo. Your master commands it...right, Astre?”

The sound of his birth name electrified him. “Sebastian,” he said slowly, refusing to look at the demon. “Mey-Rin, Bard...all of you. Leave us.”

“But Young Master—!”

 _“Leave us,”_ he hissed. “We need to have a private conversation, anyways. Go help Sebastian.”

They waited until the servants shuffled away before they faced each other, sapphire orbs meeting identical sapphire.

“It was Undertaker, wasn’t it?”

“I shan’t kiss and tell,” his twin replied cheekily, and for a moment Astre could pretend that they were back in _those days_ before he was thrown back into reality by the cold, calculative glint in his twin’s eyes — a grim reminder that _he_ had been responsible for Agni’s death. “You know, _Ciel,”_ his twin said mockingly, “the moniker almost suits you. Should I refer to you by that from now on?”

“What should I call _you?”_

“Why, what you’ve always called me.”

“You’re not Ciel.”

“Neither are you,” his twin retorted, letting out a small _tsk._ “Just...call me _brother.”_

Astre scowled. “Alright, _brother,_ how are you here? What’s your purpose?”

Instead of answering, his twin grinned unnervingly, striding past him. “I wonder, what _is_ my purpose?” he mused, strolling forward before abruptly pivoting on his heel and striding back to him. “Amusement? Boredom? Or perhaps a greater cause? Well, dearest brother...I’ll tell you something…”

The boy smiled, and for one long, glorious moment, Astre saw just _Ciel._

“...you’re too naive.”

_Bang._

Silence permeated the room, shock rendering Astre completely silent.

“Oh my, your sniper shot me,” Ciel commented idly, brushing away the blood on his face and raising his pistol at Astre again apathetically. “She’s a good shot. Probably would’ve killed me if, you know, I wasn’t _dead already._ Thanks for that, little brother. And thank you for taking care of my life for me in my absence.”

Astre realized that he was going to die.

Ah, that was a shame...he was really hoping that he could exact his revenge for his family before he did. Faintly, Astre registered the sound of gunshots, screams, and battle waging outside. Sebastian was preoccupied — and somehow, Astre couldn’t see the demon intervening on his behalf, anyways.

Indeed, Sebastian protected Astre from harm to ensure that there were no breaches in the contract: from what he’d gathered, there were large consequences.

But then again, most ancient civilizations had always considered twins two halves of one person — and, well, Astre had never specified for the butler to protect him from _himself._

He was going to die.

He was going to die without making amends with _her._

Astre closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was Ciel Phantomhive once again. “Do it,” he said calmly, his voice somehow level and eyes strangely peaceful. “Kill me, brother.”

Ciel smiled. “As you wis—”

_Swish._

Something dashed past them, slicing his twin’s pistol straight in two. For a moment, Astre blinked and tilted his head dazedly. Could it be _Earl Grey?_ Why the hell would one of the Queen’s Butlers be at the Phantomhive mansion?

His confusion only grew tenfold when he realized that the figure standing in front of him protectively didn’t have locks of fine silver, but blinding gold. Dressed in a brilliant dress of vermillion, swords in hand and eyes blazing with courage and love and passion and pain—

—was Elizabeth Midford.

“Get the _hell_ away from my fiance.”

“Liz...zy...?”

She didn’t peel her gaze away from her opponent, jaw locked and gaze determined in a way that reminded him of Aunt Francis. “Please, stay quiet for now, Ciel,” she requested. Although her tone was strong, Ciel could detect the faintest of tremors in her voice. Lizzy (dazzling, radiant, _luminous_ Lizzy) gave his twin an expression that burned with love, passion, and sadness. “Don’t do this, Ciel.”

“Little _Lizzy,”_ his brother sneered, his words somehow lacking the venom they previously contained when speaking to him. “You’ve turned traitor already? I should’ve known you’d stab me in the back again sooner or later.”

Her gaze remained steady. “I haven’t betrayed you, Ciel,” she said softly, “and I never will.”

His lips twisted downwards into a snarl. _“Lies!”_ he hissed, lunging forward and reaching for his other pistol. Ciel immediately darted foward to reach for his cousin, but Lizzy grabbed his hand before he could pull her back.

“Go ahead,” she dared, “shoot me.”

Silence.

“You can’t,” she said finally after moments of unbearably high tension. There was a triumphant glint in her emerald eyes. “You _can’t_ shoot me,” she repeated almost gleefully. “Because underneath everything that they’ve done to you, you’re still _you,_ Ciel.”

“Don’t you _dare_ call me by that name.”

She tilted her head, fluttering her eyelashes girlily. “Why not? You’re Ciel.”

“You call _him_ that.”

“I loved you as Ciel, and I loved him as Ciel,” Lizzy retorted. Her words struck him like a flash of lightning, stealing his breath away as Ciel gave her a wide-eyed look of shock. “To me, both of you are my dearest Ciels, no matter _what_ your birth names were.”

“You loved him only because you loved _me,”_ his brother insisted furiously, striding forward ominously until he closed the gap between them. Lizzy was undeterred, even by the short distance that separated them. “You loved a _lie,_ a liar. You placed all of your hopes, expectations, and affections _on him_ without seeing _Astre.”_

“And for that, I will forever remain penitent,” Lizzy agreed amiably. “But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t fall for him. I didn’t realize who he was until too late, and even when I did, I chose blissful ignorance over the painful truth. I loved Astre at first because I thought he was you, but I loved him after because he was _him.”_

Silence fell upon the room once more, the sole exception being the heavy breathing of all three occupants.

Lizzy smiled at his brother, her eyes sad. “I loved you, Ciel,” she admitted. “I still love you. But I love _him,_ and _you_ love him.”

“I don’t!”

“You _do!”_ she insisted, surging forward and grabbing him by the collar. “You _do_ love him, which is why you left that warning. You love him, which was why you took so long to confront him; you love him enough that you _would_ leave him in peace, had it not been for what Fate demanded of you—”

 _“Silence!”_ his brother roared, his eyes flashing with the most emotion Ciel had ever seen him wear. “I knew I should’ve never brought you there—”

“I _chose_ to stay. For _you,”_ Lizzy insisted fiercely. “Together, we can stop this, Ciel. With Astre by our side, I _know_ the three of us can solve this: we can work this out. We’re capable of doing this, aren’t we? That’s why we were trained to be—”

“—I don’t _care_ about being the Queen’s Watchdog anymore. I serve _no one,_ Lizzy,” his brother hissed. Lizzy _glared_ at him, then to Ciel’s everlasting surprise, smiled.

“See? We’re getting along nicely.”

 _“Nicely?”_ Ciel couldn’t help but echo in disbelief. He wasn’t the only one to question her: his brother had asked the exact same question simultaneously. Slowly, he inched his head to meet the bewildered eyes of his brother. Immediately, those eyes narrowed in distaste.

“You always exceed my expectations,” his brother murmured towards Lizzy almost _fondly._ His lips twitched upwards a fraction. “I’m afraid I have an appointment I must go to. Seeing as I haven’t eliminated the Head of the Phantomhive House...well, _adieu.”_

And, with a flourish of his cape, his brother left, leaving behind two silent teens.

“Lizzy…”

“...not now, Ciel,” she said wearily, shaking her head to draw herself out of her stupor. “Another day, I promise. But not today.”

It wasn’t a reassurance of any sort, but somehow Ciel felt strengthened by her very presence. “Another day,” he acquiesced, scrutinizing his fiance (ex fiance?) closely. “Lizzy?”

She turned her attention to him, the bittersweet glint in her eyes fading ever so slightly. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

She paused, then nodded.

“Always, for you,” came her soft whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's all, folks  
> it's so late im so delirious ugh im sorry i'll edit this when im coherent  
> this chapter is all noncanon, as is most of chapter 3 <3  
> hope you all enjoyed, I love your faces, and keep the cielizzy ship alive my friends

**Author's Note:**

> I steadfastly believe that real!Ciel can be cute, too. And I love him (even if he might secretly be a psychopathic yandere like our fandom believes).  
> I also resolutely ship (our) cielizzy.  
> Lizzy is a badass and she is too precious for this world - I love everything with her in it. I can pair her with a rock and still shamelessly find the ship cute.  
> This should be a five chapter fic. It gets noncanon from chapters 3+


End file.
